


Come The Glorious Day

by foqueue



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, The Sun Ending (Cyberpunk 2077)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:22:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29610069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foqueue/pseuds/foqueue
Summary: Between the Tower and the Palace, V and Kerry build something resembling a future.(Spoilers for the Sun ending.)
Relationships: Kerry Eurodyne/V
Comments: 13
Kudos: 55





	1. Gimme Shelter

He ran out across and into the plaza, under the projected twin enormous koi, looming like spirits in the night; past vendors and bystanders gathered to gawk from a not-entirely-safe distance, everything evidently having happened so quick there wasn’t security enough to guide them back. Or maybe all the security that there was had gone in and was laying inside where Alt had fried them. Hell of a lot of bodies there had been. He ran past them all, not stopping to listen to the chatter or look back. Took only a few heartbeats’ time to make it across and then down the stairs opposite, calling for his ride as he went. Two of them met at nearly the same point on the street below.

He got in and drove; cut a hard merge and took the first exit out of the circle, and drove. South. Headed for Rancho Coronado. His pulse was thumping, waiting for chase to materialize. Didn’t seem possible he could slip away from as major an operation as that with no tail. The instinct to delta off the face of the entire fuckin’ earth had every consideration but the road erased from his mind.

Blew through a couple of reds, close call on more than one slow-turning blind gonk headed into his path, but he was just about clear out. Saw the Ferris wheel up ahead, pink glow never looking as beautiful as it did tonight, in all its fallen majesty.

Five minutes later and he was pulled up ‘round back of it. Hadn’t been anyone on him. In fact, out here, was about as a quiet a night could be. Lotta lights behind him, in city center, amped chatter across the radio channels, but out here, it was just the usual bums and lines of vending machines, scop central.

He rested his head against the wheel, catching his breath and bringing his heart rate back down to normal. Adrenaline was just starting to wear off. It all seemed barely possible – and yet, somehow –

He got out, peered up at the neon – not one star could shine through the combo job of the light and smog – and tried to think what came next. For so long, there’d been one goal line. Finally get there and it wasn’t quite a mirage, sure was something, but not the thing it’d been supposed to be.

In the absence of any real cue on how to feel – and with Johnny not being available – he figured he’d have to spin it his own way. Call it victory. Victory meant celebrating, and he knew who he wanted for that. Was already sitting there top of the list, last dial ready to be the first again: Kerry.

Was only minutes past midnight – real time and Mikoshi time had severely diverged at some point – and he figured he’d still be up.

“Heeey, V!”

“Now there’s a voice I’m glad to hear.”

“Can’t get enough of me, eh?”

“Hell, no.” He was pacing, smiling like a regular lovefool, one arm crossed on his chest. “Did something real big today, Ker.”

“Not gonna tell me your big thing’s got something to do with all this the buzz I’m starting to pick up on, are you?”

He gave a small laugh, partially in disbelief at himself. “Yeah, Ker. It kinda does.”

“Well, hell. Must be free now if you’re calling lil’ ol’ me up. Wanna come over and tell me in person?”

“Yeah, I do. Sounds nice. Tell you everything then.”

“I’ll put some coffee on. See you, V.”

V got back in the V-Tech and turned the radio all the way down. He was starting to feel spent in the wake of the blood rush. He drove in silence, the way he never did – always had the radio blasting, just a waste to drive ‘thout it – a silence all the more manifest for the lack of Johnny.

He felt his skin prickling in the night air, an uncomfortable echo of the phantom pins and needles Alt had dragged him through.

It was an easy five minutes to the freeway, and from there it was a straight shot up to North Oaks – hills were already coming into form out of the barren landscape along the right.

Things he normally tuned out, down to a background presence, suddenly struck him as remarkable: the rumble of the V-Tech’s engine, the patterns of the lights over the city, the rhythmic motions of the bobble-head on his dash. He focused in so much on the mundane that he zoned himself near into a stupor, miles winking by, and only snapped back out of autopilot when the golden phoenix of the roundabout filled his view, and had to go the whole way ‘round it to get back to the turn he missed.

He had to yield making the left and found himself staring blankly at the oncoming headlights. After they passed, he blinked exaggeratedly, popping his eyes to try to focus, as he started up the last hill to Kerry’s. Didn’t see how lights could cause it, but he felt a sudden faintness, kind of pre-blackout warmth at the back of his skull. He thought maybe his Kiroshis had malfunctioned, until he realized he was sleepy as hell, too – all over ready to crash.

He was just getting to thinking it’d have been better to have gone to his place and done just that there and rung Kerry in the morning, but by then, he was already coming up the drive.

Might be neural, might have to do with what Alt’d said, but six months was six months, dammit – wasn’t supposed to start yet – if it’d ever stopped, he had to amend.

But Kerry was waiting at the door, coffee in hand and cig in his mouth, just a perfectly domestic sight – made V feel sweet just to see it – and he resolved to set all that aside for the morning – later – anytime except right now.

Kerry gave him a pleased smile as he emerged from his ride. “You’re a crazy son of a bitch, V. Got all caught up on the detes while I was waiting, least the detes they’re letting out, and if that’s half of it –”

Sharp edge of a headache was coming on, and fast. V winced.

“Hey,” Kerry said, looking concerned. V tried to take a step forwards and vertigo followed, wave of it all at once. He grabbed at the nearest thing he could find for balance and inelegantly caught himself on the bushes. Kerry snuffed out his cig, left the coffee on the floor, and came to him. “Woah, woah. V, the hell?”

Kerry was a much better balance. Walked with him, too. “Think it’s catchin’ up with me,” V muttered.

“Alright, let’s just get you inside.”

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll just lie down for a bit... ‘fore I give you the whole thing.”

“Jesus, tell me this blood ain’t yours.” V hadn’t noticed it. Must have gotten there when Johnny was in charge. He was glad for the first time to be in whatever clothes these were instead of his own.

“ _Ain’t_ ,” he said.

“C’mon, ’s get you out of that. Jacket and boots at least, looks like they got the worst of it.” Kerry had him sat on the bench outside of his bathroom. Surprised him how efficient Kerry was. No questions. Pulled off some rare looking boots with some kind of thruster tech, must have been a Rogue contribution, ‘thout any comment at all.

It didn’t feel so bad letting Kerry fuss on him, thought, matter of fact, he might just nod off right here on the bench letting him direct things.

“Hey.” Kerry was bent over him, worried frown on his face, one hand on V’s shoulder and the other on his cheek. It was nearly a match for the very first time V had seen Kerry with his own eyes, when he’d stumbled with a bad malfunction after Johnny vacated the premises. _There’s a loop for you,_ V thought about saying. Wasn’t generally one for being swept away, but Jesus, a face like Kerry’s, at that kind of proximity? It’d been immediate then, and he felt the same now. “ _Hey_ ,” Kerry repeated, insistently. “This one of those malfunctions you get? Or do you need a doc?”

He shook his head. “No docs. ‘m just tired.”

“I mean, you’re not dying on me or anything?”

“Not _dyin’_.” _Not yet_ , he thought. “Just want to sleep.”

Kerry gave him a dubious look, but helped him upstairs.

“Sorry, Ker,” he said. “Wasn’t feeling it when I called you. Snuck up on me. Otherwise –”

“Forget it. Glad you did. Worse places you could go to narc out. But listen, it’s some funny shit to show up this way and tell me no docs.”

Kerry helped ease V onto his bed.

“Fair. OK, you get worried about anything, call Vik.” He transferred the contact to Kerry. “He’s the one who knows my situation. But don’t worry.” He curled onto his side. Body was settling in as it pleased, going into rapid shut-down. “Just gonna – sleep a little – that’s all.”

And then he slipped under.

* * *

V came back to wakefulness slowly. Opened his eyes enough to see Kerry’s legs pacing across the far of the room, took in the sound of the man’s voice on the phone with someone, but was in no hurry to actually lift his head. Had the kind of headache that came from sleeping wrong, kind that came on sometimes after staying up too late and then sleeping too late, which probably tracked.

He groaned as he stirred. He heard Kerry end his call, and then a moment later, Kerry knelt by the bed and face entered his vision. “Heeey.” Kerry patted his cheek. “Welcome back to the land of the livin’.”

“Mornin’.” Felt dried out as hell, and hot, too, though it didn’t seem to be for any excess of blankets. He started stretching out. At least his muscles didn’t seem too unhappy.

“Ain’t morning anymore.” Kerry stood back up.

“How long was I out?” V sat up, rubbing at his neck.

“Two days.”

V’s attention snapped to Kerry’s. “The hell?”

“’S what I should be asking _you._ The _hell_ , V? ‘I just wanna sleep’?”

V groaned again. “System reset, I think. Too much to process.” He remembered thinking that at some point, while he was out, or half-come to: that the Relic or his implants or both were rebooting to try to calibrate for the missing Johnny, and their methods relied on shutting him down.

Kerry’s voice went quiet. “Called Vik in. Around the fifteenth fuckin’ hour.”

That explained that fragment. Almost thought he’d dreamed it – sight of Misty and Kerry sitting together, fortune-telling or something, amidst a sea of empties Kerry apparently didn’t care to clean even for company. Surreal, but not as strange a sight as he might’ve thought. Two looked like they could get along.

“And?” When Kerry didn’t answer, he pressed again. “Kerry, what did Vik _say_?”

“Gotta be starved,” Kerry said evasively. “Let’s... get you something to eat first.”

Which ruled out any chance of the news being easy – no ‘forget Alt, she must have been severely mistaken.’

“Right. Could use some chow.” Wasn’t going to be any way of playing it off – hadn’t been from the time he showed up and passed out, sure as hell wasn’t going to be now that Kerry’d gotten it straight from Vik.

“Whaddya want? Order something in?”

“Nah. Wanna go out. Wanna feel... regular. Was having these weird dreams. Really vivid.”

One had featured Alt heavily, nothing she said making sense. He’d had the impression she wasn’t talking to him at all, but it was him alone sitting at her non-corporeal feet taking it in. One he’d had a full-chrome body, gold, knew he was himself and not anyone else, but couldn’t find any trace of himself in it. One had Jackie coming with him to Atlanta, run through with the brightest optimism before it all went to shit, again. In between were other snippets, the bit of Misty and Kerry, plus another of Kerry sleeping spooned against him, that he was fairly sure was real.

“Kinda wanna just get my feet planted back in reality.”

“Okay. Got a craving?”

“Big juicy burger. How bout that joint down in Charter Hill?”

“Done. You really OK to get up already?”

“Yeah. Layin’ in ain’t gonna help any. Just gotta push through it.”

“Alright. Lemme get a little incognito outfit together, just in case. Probably don’t want the attention right now. Oh yeah, you want something to throw on? Probably coulda cleaned your jacket for you while you were out, but, eh – oh well.”

V had to smile. Unforced cleaning really wasn’t Kerry’s style. “Nah, sure I got something or other stashed in my trunk. Time is it anyway?”

“Three or four or something – P.M., case you went blind, too.” Kerry had disappeared into his closet.

V stood, gingerly, blood rushing as he did, but he anticipated the returning tide of faintness and was able to hold the black at the edges of his vision off. He tested his muscles, making sure everything was how it should be.

Kerry came back in the same outfit he’d worn on their outing to the Cracks girls’ dressing room, baggy hoodie and dweeby oversized sunglasses and cap and all. “Got some good vibes outta this look last time, got to give it another spin. Get your shit, I’m drivin’. Wanna see you awake more’n an hour before I trust you behind a wheel.”

“Fine. Better not scratch my ride, though. Taking your Aerondight’d definitely ruin the down-low vibe.”

Getting in, V wasn’t sure he hadn’t rushed it. He kept blinking his eyes – squeezing them more like, force in it, trying to push away the heavy vagueness there, a blanket of sleep not quite thrown off right. Head wasn’t spinning, but it sure as hell wasn’t normal, either.

Riding shotgun didn’t help with the surreality problem. V had never let anyone else drive his car – any of them. Kerry wasn’t the most talented driver – almost merged on top of someone getting into the four-lane roundabout – but managed. Wasn’t that long a ride.

To V’s surprise, Kerry didn’t sit on Morro, but kept the radio on a constant flip. “Got to keep an ear out. Never know what’s gonna strike ya. ‘Cept Samizdat. Fuckin’ dronecore wasteland.”

They parked a block away and walked to Netko. That little stretch of his legs felt plain wonderful. It was a nice spot out here. Eddies flowed enough to keep appearances up, that was for sure.

He got a burger and fries, and hell if that burger wasn’t the best tasting thing he’d ever eaten. _Starved_ was right, and he hadn’t realized the half of it ‘til he sat down to eat.

Kerry for his part had ordered coffee only, and was alternating swallows of it and drags on a cig.

“Your girl, uh, Misty – came along with Vik – did a read before she left.”

“And? What’d ya think?”

“Interesting spread. Wheel of Fortune, Three of Rods, Five of Cups inverted, plus Two upright.” Taking in V’s expression, Kerry added, “Don’t mean anything to you, do they?”

“Never even heard of half of those cards. Misty gave me a read or two, but guess I got the beginners’ version. Hell, never even got a grasp on how you’re ‘sposed to make sense of those.”

Kerry snuffed out his cigarette. “Sense comes from how you choose to take ‘em, and how your teller presents ‘em. Your girl’s got a real touch for it.” He gave V a sidelong look. “You don’t quite strike me as the superstitious type, though.”

“Not generally. Have been a few times lately I get thinking I might be turning into one.”

“Hmm. Well, it’s a good spread overall. One of them’s even about you.”

“That so? Hope it said something nice.”

Kerry smiled at him, genuine. “Nice as hell, V.”

But bantering wasn’t going to spare them from the inevitable conversation that needed having. V felt a hard lump of dread in his gut just thinking about it.

“Look, Ker, we got to...” Burgers and fries were gone. Nothing keeping them out in this open spot anymore. “Look, let’s get back to the car.”

He tried again then, when they’d regrouped there, leaned with his back against the V-Tech.

“Let’s get this over with. What the hell did Vik say?”

“That you’re... _Fuck_ , V.” Kerry gave him a helpless kind of look. Made V feel like a regular asshole, but he pressed on.

“Fucked is right, Ker.”

“Tell your own goddamn story. Don’t ‘system reset’ bullshit me.”

“Fine.” He took a deep breath. “Fair. Let me drive – feeling pretty strong now. I’ll give you the whole thing.” Driving always calmed him. It was easier to talk without having to stare at each other, too. Could just dump it out then. 

He started again when they’d gotten in. “Johnny explained least some of our arrangement before, right?”

“Yeah. Pretty thoroughly, matter of fact. I mean, don’t ask me to write no dissertations on it, but yeah, I got the picture.”

He picked roads at random, keeping towards the eastern edge of the city.

“If I start talkin’ ‘bout engrams or the Relic – you follow?”

“As concepts – yeah. Mechanics, you might need to break down.”

“Okay. I’m just gonna hit you with it then. Don’t even know if _I_ got the full picture. Important fucking little detes came fast and dirty at the end, serious fucking delay, and I’m actually – I don’t think I got lied to. But it seems like the source of my info had other fuckin’ priorities, and maybe it’s possible some _other_ detes got conveniently omitted.”

“Don’t need all the legal disclaimers, V. I got it.”

“Doin’ it in reverse on how I got it. Though you might have this part from Vik already. First thing to square away is, I’m still fucked. Neural shit I don’t understand, immune system response – I’m the virus now, even with no Johnny. Body’s still trying to split from me. Went on too long – damage is done – something – Jesus, I’m not a doc. Supposedly would have been fine ‘n’ dandy for Johnny. Which is point two –”

“ _Fuck_ , V,” Kerry said, still caught on point one.

“Told you I’m gonna dump it all at once.” Keep talking, don’t think about it, just give the report, that was how he could cope. “ _Two,_ Johnny’s off in A.I. wonderland with Alt. Johnny had the fuckin’ choice of it, and he gave the body back to me. Even though it wouldn’t be dying on him the way it is on me. Fuck, listen to me. ‘It’... ‘the body’... like it isn’t mine...

“Point three, Rogue’s dead, Rogue planned everything and ran everything and it was the Rogue and Johnny show all the way down the tower. I came in at the end. Big fuckin’ hero. That satellite that came down was Alt, every ‘Saka soldier in the tower getting fried was Alt, and me crossing over to cyberspace long enough to get made an engram only for the pleasure of getting put back in my still-fucked body, was Alt. So before you get impressed by anything, do a little tally and see that my grand appearance was walkin’ out the back door when the show was over.”

“Fuck’s _sake_ , V – you can’t think I care about a thing like that.”

V blinked. _He_ himself cared, and hadn’t realized just how bitterly until the moment the words spilled out from him. Last night – two nights ago – he’d planned on telling it in grand style, meant to impress Kerry with it.

“What’s ‘getting made an engram’ supposed to mean?” Kerry ventured.

Question V barely felt qualified to answer. They’d reached the ridge, spot just up past the Petrochem dam. He pulled over.

“Like Johnny got. Take a person... and convert them into a form that can be held in cyberspace ‘stead of flesh.”

He did not want to mention Soulkiller, didn’t want to even acknowledge it. So many questions he should have fucking asked while he had a chance – but didn’t, maybe, subconsciously knowing there weren’t answers, least not ones he would have liked.

Kerry didn’t seem overly fixed on it. Quietly, he asked, “How long?” There was no point pretending not to know what part he meant.

“Six months. Least, that’s what Alt said.” V ran a hand over his face, trying to stay calm. “Now, Alt launched this plan a considerable time ago and only realized night of that my body had an issue – like she forgot what bodies were or how they work – so that’s why I say – probably, she’s right. Don’t think she lied. But still...” He wanted it to be wrong. He had nothing to say it was.

“Jesus.” Kerry peered blankly out the window.

“Well – that match what Vik told you?”

“Said about the same. Said your condition ain’t cured, V. Said what you did didn’t reverse what’s been done. Time-wise, said there’s not an exact science to it, but...”

Tiny pitiful hope V’d held on to that Alt had made some miscalculation dissipated into nothing. Vik knew – wasn’t any kind of mistake if Vik said it.

Kerry tried to rally. “The hell, there’s got to be things to try. The fucking tech they got these days? ‘Tween you and me, _hell_ if we don’t got the eddies for it – and the connections. Got to be something we can do.”

“It ain’t gonna be a neat trip to the hospital, Ker. It’s still workin’ off the Relic’s specs. Experimental tech, experimental results. It –”

“Well, we can sure fucking try.”

Hoping just hurt worse. _Not a goddamn thing_ you _can do, Ker,_ he wanted to spit, and held in. The anger came on too hot. Kerry wasn’t the right target for it. He pressed a fist to his forehead, gonk kind of technique of knuckling himself into calm.

“Got to be realistic, Ker. ‘Course I’m gonna fucking _try_ , but it isn’t...”

Kerry went quiet. “I know. V, I’m –”

V thought he knew what was coming – Kerry was going to say he was sorry – and didn’t want to hear it. He threw his door open before Kerry could finish. “Just give me a minute,” he muttered.

He walked away from the car, rubbing both hands over his face. It was Jackie he thought of, Jackie and all of their shared promises, and Jackie that brought on tears that spilled over, hot and frustrated. Pair of gonks of the highest order, and what did he have to whine about when he already got further than Jackie? Plain further than he deserved, maybe.

After everything, still hadn’t learned his lesson. World had a way of working, he kept pretending it didn’t. 

He heard the slam of a car door. Had probably been a minute. Maybe two. He tried to catch his breath and get a hold before Kerry could see.

He’d achieved something that shouldn’t have been achievable. And it still wasn’t enough. He felt it alongside the bitterness: an ache, some kind of hole – and the thought that nothing would ever be enough to fill it.

“Fucking c’mere,” Kerry said, and pulled him into a hug. “Not gonna ignore you like that, you _bobo_.”

He hung on tightly. Felt so damn good just to be held like that.

“Really... believed it,” he said, voice rough. “Shouldn’t have. But I did. I really did. That I might get to... unequivocally just _win_... with no bitter to cut the sweet. Come out on top – just once...”

He pulled back then. Kerry had left his shades in the car, bright as it was, and the sight of those blue eyes was more direct an effect than he planned for. He felt as naked and open as he had – hell, since Clouds.

“If there were any kind of fairness in the world, you would get that,” Kerry said. “But even if there was, it sure don’t live in Night City.”

V gave a shaky laugh. “That’s a fact. Can try to rise outta the gutter, but a taste is all you’ll get.”

“Get more’n a taste, if you’re lucky.”

Kerry pulled him into a kiss. When they broke, he kept one hand on V’s cheek, running a thumb soothingly across it. His defiant hint of a smile had faded. Wasn’t meeting V’s gaze anymore, eyes downcast. The sight reminded V of how he’d seen him at the club, and felt a pang. Wasn’t doing any kind of job at upholding that giddy little promise about chasing the shadows away, but remembering it, he wanted to, something awful.

“’Cept you,” he said lightly. “ _You’re_ the one thing that went my way, more than shoulda.”

Kerry’s eyes flickered up to his with a smile. He kissed him again.

“Sometimes universe opens up and grants us what we need,” Kerry said, voice husky. “Even when it’s darkest. Maybe ‘specially then.” After a beat, he added, more brightly, “Penance for the fuckin’ over it’s just finished doin’.”

V laughed. “’Bout the right of it.”

Kerry lit fresh a cig and leveled V with a fond look. “Nice spot you picked.” He nodded his head in direction of the city. “Look at that. Gorgeous.”

Deep gold sunset bathing the city in its rays. All the ugliness compressed and hidden away by the scale out here. Kerry was right. About as pretty a sight as could be.

“One of my favorite spots,” he said. “Maybe an answer to yours, opposite side across. Get a space to think, ‘thout runnin’ away from it, ‘thout playin’ nomad out in the Badlands.”

For some minutes, they just took in the sight together, letting it wash over them.

“C’mon. Let me take you home,” Kerry said, when the light started to dip low, and took one of V’s hands in his. “Bet I can think of some ways of cheerin’ you up.”

“Long as you don’t call it –”

“– round three?”

V groaned. “Kerry, told you to stop countin’.”

“Hey, wasn’t sure at first you’d keep coming.” Kerry smirked. “And they _were_ worth counting.”

V returned Kerry’s expression in equal measure. “Oh, I’ll keep coming.”

It was enough to forget the rest for a minute. Last bit of sun gleaming against the trails of metal snaking across Kerry’s throat and dancing at the thin lines at the edges of his eyes – fact that Kerry had taken in everything and still wanted to invite him back – it was something beautiful, something that paused and hung long enough to imprint itself.

Everything else might be true, might be coming down the barrel inescapably for him.

But not right now.

V tugged at Kerry’s hand. “Alright, let’s fuckin’ delta. I’m drivin’.”

“Think you skipped a couple of large things in the first run-through,” Kerry said, getting in shotgun. “When you say ‘Alt’ – you don’t mean Alt _Cunningham_? _Johnny’s_ Alt?”

“Aww, hell,” V groaned. “Guess I did leave some of the juicy detes out.”

Calmer this time, he started again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Naturally had to continue the grand tradition of using song names for titles. "Come the Glorious Day" is by Snake Corps & "Gimme Shelter" is (ofc) the Rolling Stones.


	2. Make It Wit Chu

Only had to erase one thing, and everything was perfect.

He and Kerry were settling into something real. Practically giddy with that new relationship bliss. Nothing but promises and hope, long as he chalked the tiredness that never fully left him as the product of a little insomnia only.

Professionally, he’d catapulted to the big leagues. Whole arena of resources and clout had opened up to him. Kerry, too, was working in earnest again – writing, planning a tour, generally humming with purpose. Looked a hell of a lot like a future, long as he could convince himself that that headache creeping at the back of his skull was just a lingering hangover.

Only had to erase one thing – couldn’t truly forget, but could pretend, least for one night.

Kerry was feeling it, too. “Oughta celebrate,” he’d said over call. “Got about fifty causes now. Lemme take you out somewhere, do it properly.”

Properly meant _Dark Matter_ , not only for the call-back, but because it was the nicest joint Kerry knew.

Wasn’t emptied out this time, felt like a regular old Thursday – mixed in with the top-eddy crowd, sat figurative miles above the grimy streets he was used to – even so, felt regular. A conventional, regular date – V couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had one of those.

They’d about polished off their second round of drinks when the mood shifted from small-talk banter to something more intimate.

“I’ve been... thinkin’ about things. Ever since – you know.”

“C’mon. Gimme it.” And Kerry beckoned with his fingers for V to go on.

“Wasn’t too long ago I thought I had to get out of here. City was just a dead end. Even tried. Know that? Delta’d the fuck off to Atlanta. Two years whole years. And the hell if, if... Shit. It didn’t go anywhere. Got nothing to say about fuckin’ Atlanta. Then I came back and it all came true. Night City was a dead end before? Kerry, I came back and fucking _died_. Point blank.” He gestured, finger-gun pressed to his forehead. “And then... and then, maybe it was the bullet they pulled outta my head, y’know, good old fashioned physical brain damage, no fuckin’ finesse or tech about it, but I – I started to fall in love with the city. Couldn’t imagine ever leaving. Just tied into it somehow.

“Looking at it like this, I feel like I see what you see. Or part of it, ‘thout havin’ an artist’s eye for it. Makes it all feel like less of a fucking... out of bounds coincidence. Like – ah, shit, I’m going soft in the head.”

“No. Go on, follow it.”

“Like maybe being here with you right now makes it make sense. Or makes me forget about caring if it makes sense.”

“Like we were _meant_ to meet? Just at the right narrow sliver of time?”

“Yeah... Ker, I –”

“I know, V. I know.”

Kerry pulled him into a tender kiss.

“Ker, I’m so fucking glad I have you.” He’d tried, in a kind of uneven way, hadn’t really succeeded with connecting with someone else – really, deep-level _connecting_ – not since Jackie – ‘til Kerry.

“Jesus, V. You’re fuckin’... dunno what. An arc. Universe bending around you.”

“Universe bending me to make me her bitch, Ker. Luck’s only there if you frame it nice. Look on the flip-side and you’ll see...”

“Listen, V. I know this is the exact opposite kind of problem you’ve had. Bear me out ‘til I get to my point. But it’s fucking... terrifying, how time can just – disappear. I mean, entire fucking years that go by and I don’t know what the hell I was doing. Just – completely fucking wasted. Sometimes even come to long enough to see it happening, but not enough to stop it. Goddamn helpless and for no reason that you can name. I’ve been been there before, but never as bad as it was this last time. Drownin’ in it, can admit that now, with it receding... and well, then you come along.

“Now, I know you had top fucking billing to announce you, ‘course that’s gonna make a mark. But it’s not about the Johnny show, which has been in re-runs for fifty fuckin’ years. _You_ made everything flow the right way again. Jesus, how long have we even known each other? It’s like it doesn’t even fucking matter, what’s the point of counting, when a week with you is worth the weight of the full length of one of those empty fuckin’ nothing years? That’s what it feels like, V. So if you’re telling me there’s a chance you’re gonna –”

“More than a _chance_ , Ker –”

“– there’s a chance, then fuck it. Cosmic fucking joke, but that’s life’s specialty, ain’t it? Two times already you cheated your way outta it. V, comes to you, I’m not saying this as bullshit. Think you could produce goddamn miracles, think maybe you already have. If you do it again? I’d shrug and say, dunno what the hell else I expected.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do. I really fuckin’ do.”

They gazed at each other, teetering between staying bared open or steering back to light ground.

“Look, if you’d’a told me a month ago I’d be sitting here with someone like you –”

“Who, me?”

“– with _Kerry Eurodyne_ , feelin’ like a fuckin’ schoolgirl with a crush, butterflies ‘n’ shit, cos he thinks I can do miracles – _shi-i-it_.”

“And if you’d told me a month ago I’d be sitting here feeling like goddamn sunlight’s dancin’ across of all the muck, like life itself got handed back to me, and it’s all cos’a some small-time kleptopunk...”

V grinned. “Big-time now.”

“Yeah, but I got that cred.” Kerry whistled. “Whoo-ee, lucky me! Got in before you made it big, get to brag about bein’ a _true_ fan to the casuals.”

“But seriously – it feels so... regular, bein’ with you.”

“Real chemistry.” Kerry shot him a suggestive glance, and then a beat later, looked away, pensive. “Right from the start. Ah, V. Rare as hell, that. Tell you that.”

“Craziest shit in the world, survivin’ to get this far up. Feel like I swapped decks with someone, took their destiny. Jesus, dunno the last time I went on like this to _anyone_. Having Johnny in my head must have filled the itch to talk – boy, did he have a lot to say.”

Kerry barked a laugh. “Oh, I’m sure.”

“There’s this strange quiet now. Can’t say it’s been like ‘going back to normal.’ It’s... different. It’s what I wanted, but...”

“Lonelier?”

“Yeah. Thought when he left, it’d be over. _All_ of it. But still trying to fix all of ... _this_...” He gestured at his head, broadly and futilely. “...alone, is... Shit, sorry.”

Kerry reached for his hand. “Doesn’t have to be lonelier. You know that, right? Ain’t a one-off – us, I mean.”

“I know that.” He squeezed his hand against Kerry’s, metal and skin and synth. “I want that.”

V laughed to himself then, looking out across the city’s expanse. “Who’da thought you were walking into all _this_ when you went and got involved with me, right?”

Kerry laughed back at him. “That’d be _my_ line normally. Gonna have to step it up. Got a reputation to uphold.”

“Uh-uh, Ker,” V teased. “‘Sposed to be a good boy these days, didn’t you promise?”

“Oh, _am_ I now?” Kerry drawled, and gave V a look that redirected some priorities.

“You wanna, y’know...?” V made a suggestive motion with his hands.

“Fuck?” Kerry replied, popping his lips around the syllable. “Right _here_?”

“Nah.” V nodded his head backwards, gesturing. “Toilets. Kinda man you take me for?”

“In the _shitter_? Oh, V, you bleedin’ heart romantic.”

Kerry rolled his eyes, but grinned all the while, and let V lead him, hand in hand, towards them.

“Hey, it’s the toilets at _Dark Matter_ ,” V went on. “Might be trashy, but it’s high-class trash. That’s my kinda aesthetic. Shit, probably even clean ‘em more than once a year.”

V opened the door and made a show of inspecting the room.

“Look at this, what did I tell you? Fuckin’ Ritz of toilets!”

“The fuck drink did you order?” Kerry laughed and pulled him into a kiss. “That’s all it takes to impress you, I got some fun laid out for us.”

“Got an idea. Do a lil’ tour of the finest establishments, sample the shitters, ‘n’ rate ‘em. Y’know, for the ambience.”

“ _Or_ we could explore all the corners of my considerable manse and rate those instead.”

“Thought you’d never ask.” V kissed him deeply and at length, pressing him back against the edge of the sink. “I’d like that.”

Kerry wound his fingers across V’s neck. “Hell, I’d do you anywhere.” He smiled, flash of wickedness in it. “For now. Privilege of bein’ new. Don’t wear it off.” But before V could get off a retort, Kerry kissed him again.

Before he quite lost himself in the moment, Kerry added, “V? Do me a favor? Lock that goddamn door before someone gets a sight to sell.”

“Aye-aye.”

* * *

“Gonna be rumors, y’think?”

“ _Think?_ V, babe, _know_.”

“Ah, shit.”

“S’not a problem. Was due a change in promo tactic anyway. Depression? So yesterday.” V’s gaze flickered to Kerry’s, but Kerry winked away his hint of concern and went on. “Need something bright for this pop-scop crowd. What better than a –” Kerry spread his hands wide, and put on a voice, mimicking a screamsheet headline. “– _new input Kerry Eurodyne can’t keep his hands off of_? Everyone loves it when sex is involved. Never gets old.” Kerry glanced at V. “... ‘less... _you_ got any problem with it?”

“No. Hah, it’s so stupidly normal. Celebs and their bullshit...”

“Hey, it’s your bullshit now. Kinda.”

“Long as I don’t gotta flip on WNS and see my mug up. Dunno ‘bout that.”

“Nah, not their style. Little birdie tells another birdie, it hits the quickie press, don’t read ‘em and you won’t see ‘em – that’s what we’re talkin’. WNS goes through channels, gets manager comment, yadda yadda. There’s a whole system that goes into that bullshit trickling down to you plebs.”

“Huh, who knew.” V’s phone rang. Nix. “Ah, shit, lemme take this.” Kerry gestured at him to shoo.

“V. Tracked down a lead. Hint of one. Lead to a lead, maybe. Needs muscle on the ground. I assume you don’t want to hire out on this one.”

“No, got that right.” V looked at Kerry. Trade-off, he’d understand; cut this time short for a chance of buying more. “Send me the detes. I’ll be right over.”

As V read over the scoop, Kerry sauntered back over. “You got business. I can see it all over your face.”

“It’s – yeah.” He didn’t want to give any scope on his business, not before he knew it would work. Up and downs, ‘coastering on hopes and glooms, wasn’t anything he wanted. “Should take this one.”

“Got our fun in, at least,” Kerry said wistfully.

“See? Told you it’d be a nice spot.” More somberly, he added, “Sorry. Ain’t trying to make you take second spot to anyone –”

Kerry waved him off. “Don’t got to justify. Know you have things you got to do.” After a beat, he added, “Could come after – when you’re done.”

V pressed a kiss to Kerry’s temple. “ _’Course_ , Ker. Only – don’t wait up, necessarily. I mean, dunno how long it’ll take. But I _will_ be there, after.”

“Off chasin’ the night...” Kerry mused. V could nearly see the phrase turning over in the man’s mind. “Hmm, maybe I got a little juice for work in me, too.”

“ _Now_ we’re talkin’. Look, breakfast, Ker, wherever you want – on me. Promise.”

“Aww, hell.” Kerry crossed his arms and smiled. “Go on, get the fuck outta here.”

“Love ya, Ker,” V said, and turned to leave.

Only in the elevator did he realize that as easily as the phrase had slipped out, it was the first time he had actually said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Make It Wit Chu" is by Queens of the Stone Age.


	3. Perforation Problems

Three a.m. and poolside at Kerry’s villa: it was the quiet that struck V most, and the darkness second. Two of them combined to make him feel an awful isolation. The city could crush you down, but it could be an embrace, too, if you Stockholmed yourself into love for it. The hills out here klept away the excuses to be somewhere, too; no walking to vending machines for scop you didn’t need, no walking past bars to gawk at whoever else was operating on your same counter-course flow of time. You could drive, sure, but that was too much effort; was too much open admission of the fact you were running from something.

Up here, it was just empty – but for a head full of nightmares that hadn’t retreated quite the way he’d hoped when he’d crept out of bed and left Kerry to his sweet dreams.

Something had mended wrong when he’d come back, left him with a nagging sensation of missing something that he couldn’t shake – or else it was that it had gotten harder to lie to himself. Feel how fast a week passed and looking ahead to the five and a half months ahead just plain fucking didn’t cut it.

He peered blankly at a gilded flamingo at the bottom of the pool, another of the veritable easter egg collection of traces of impotent rebellion scattered across the villa. Hell, the pool itself was more of a pond, half-finished. No way of telling whether it was some kind of quirky design choice, way of communin’ with nature or whatever else gurus might say, or just something started and then abandoned.

_But such a form as Grecian goldsmiths make..._

The lines were embedded deep in his mind, though he was no closer to understanding them. Maybe they were the cause – he’d had that same dream again. Dreaming that he’d gone all chrome, nothing of him left, cold gold perfection.

Alt’s gold, Kerry’s gold, that gonk flamingo at pool’s bottom’s gold. Immortal gold, wealthy gold, beauty just for the hell of it gold. All pieces of a puzzle he didn’t get – or just the blind groping for pattern of a bone-weary mind.

Flamingo had a way of seeming to stare up at him. No answers there. He wished like hell Alt had had some, instead of riddles and trickled bits of information, when he didn’t even know what questions to ask to draw out more from her.

Movement, then the silver of Kerry’s robe catching in the moonlight, caught V’s eye.

“Hey,” V called. “Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

Kerry shook his head, motioning away V’s concern, as he sat beside him. “Forget it. Couldn’t sleep? Bad dreams?”

“Yeah. Or memories, maybe.”

“You don’t gotta feel like you’re bothering me, y’know. If you wanted to stay in bed, and, y’know, talk...”

V shook his head. “I needed to get up and move. That’s the problem with it. It all – it works when I’m busy. When I don’t got time to think. But when I stop... god, keep thinkin’ I’ll find an angle to make it make _sense_ , but it ain’t comin’, and I – shit, Ker, I just don’t want to deal with it sometimes.” He bent forwards, ran a hand across his face, and felt Kerry rest a hand on his back.

“I know,” Kerry said, and a second later thought better of it. “No, I don’t know. Got no damn idea what you’re going through. But if you wanna talk now... I’m here.”

Kerry was still running his hand in circles across V’s back, soothing, and in no hurry. V stared into the water. Something primordial about it, about water generally – hah, definitionally primordial – even being as he was most used to seeing it pooled up in a stopped-up sink, sooty and fluorescent-lit. Kerry’s pool was a hell of a level up from that, but the same calm mesmerization bubbled up from each.

“I got this particular thing that keeps fucking me up,” V said carefully, still not looking at Kerry. “And that’s trying to figure how much... me... I still am.” He waited for Kerry to question, but Kerry only went on with his motions, now more of a massage, working fingernails against his tense muscles. “Johnny and I were bleedin’ across on each other the whole time, and that was one thing... But getting yanked out of my own body... I get, theoretically, what happened in Mikoshi, but makin’ sense of it just isn’t... So much shit has happened, and I feel like I lost something, but how can I even tell anymore? What’s real? God, Kerry, you chase some kind of way of defining yourself and the entire notion of _you_ just starts retreatin’. I’m not who I was, I _know_ that – but I can’t tell when and how I...”

“...changed.” Kerry was staring at him, but it felt like too much to meet his gaze. Too open. V fought for solid footing in his mind, something that wouldn’t send him back into the endless blank of cyberspace. He had to fight the persistent sense that _that_ was what was real, and all of _this_ was just some kind of dream. “’Course you changed,” Kerry went on. “No one stays the same person they started out as. It’s fighting it that makes it worse.” He added, under his breath, “Took me a fuckin’ long time to realize that.”

“You don’t think it’s more than that? In my case?”

“I think you can frame it however you want. If one’s easier to swallow – hell, why not? Does anything actually change either way cos’a what you choose to believe?”

“Huh.” V watched the ripples in the pool as he swirled his legs through the water, light catching and dissipating. It wasn’t wrong, but it still felt like advice that meant more to Kerry than to himself. “Maybe you got a point,” he allowed.

“For what it’s worth, V – as someone who knew Johnny about as well as anyone can know another person – you’re not him. You’re fuckin’ miles from him. Whatever influence he had – whatever fucked up shit the Relic worked on your brain – what the fuck ever Mikoshi is supposed to have done – you’re still you. Maybe you got some bonus Johnny characteristics – still ain’t the same fuckin’ thing as _bein’_ him.”

That was a way out. Get Kerry to lead him back to something half-rooted. Engram was a philosophical debate beyond either of them, but Johnny was fair ground. And, between them, equal ground. “It’s still so funny,” he said, “Trying to picture the two of you together.”

“Hah. Can’t believe I was ever young?”

“Maybe. You don’t seem half as old as I know you oughta be, though.”

“See, that’s one of the differences.” Kerry jabbed the air as he spoke, picking up steam. “Johnny couldn’t give without takin’. Sittin’ around barin’ souls? He might, but he’d find a way to make you pay for it later. Couldn’t let you love him without hatin’ him, too. Fucking gonk...”

“You _did_ love him – didn’t you?” For the first time, V got a sense of it. Not as a piece of common gossip, not as part of some fifty-year old lore, but an actual sense of what it meant to love Johnny. The real, flesh and blood one.

“Shit, V...” Kerry’s voice had gone quiet. “There was no one else like him. Even when he was dead, there was no one else like him.” He shook his head, rallied. “Fuck it, I won’t pussy ‘round it like him. Yeah, I did. I sincerely fuckin’ did.”

“I get it, Ker. I didn’t love him any kinda way like you did...” He tripped and felt cold dread. Memory, not dream: back in cyberspace, delayed expiration finally, incontrovertibly up. Confronting his own doom, that gaping, bottomless despair – knowing it was Johnny who had the rights to go on – remembering how Johnny, then, had delivered mercy that felt like betrayal –

Kerry was staring at him, waiting. He forced himself back. “...But even in just that little bit of time, even with him in my fucking head, I mean like a goddamn parasite, even then...” He gave a weak, nervous laugh, trying to break the tension. “Shit, I...”

“Hah, you got the full Johnny show.” Kerry could ride the edge, flipping between the light and the heavy like it only took a switch to do, and V loved him for it right then. Gave him a way to follow up himself. “What a ride that must have been.”

“One hell of one. One hell of one.”

“V.” There was a hesitance there, that drew V’s gaze to Kerry’s. “There’s no one else like you, either. I hope you really _get_ that.”

He could chase circles in his head until he went mad. Or he could take the time he had and squeeze out every bit he could get from it. He got it then, what Kerry had meant. Get to the same destination either way.

“Look who’s talking,” he said.

Kerry smiled and pulled him in to a kiss, slow and lingering. When they broke, he kept one hand on the back of V’s neck, anchoring him.

“How about now? Ready for sleep yet?”

“Honestly? Tired as hell... but still awake.”

“C’mon.” Kerry hopped up and offered a hand to V. “Come in and watch _Silay Shore_ with me.”

V gave Kerry a dubious look. “ _Silay Shore_?”

“Uh, take it from experience. Luxe couch, bitches babblin’ about nothin’... it’ll put you out. Or hell, could put it on in bed, even.” In a mumble, he added, “Usually I’m tryin’ to get out of it.”

V took Kerry’s hand and pulled himself to his feet.

“’Less you want the pharmaceutical route,” Kerry added as they walked back inside. “All things being equal, little afraid of you going Sleeping Beauty on me again, but –”

“No. Don’t need that.”

“Got a few hours til light, and screw keepin’ hours, anyway. We’ll get you some shut-eye.” Kerry sat on the bed and gestured for V. “C’mere.”

V laid out beside Kerry, head nestled against Kerry’s chest.

“Just... let the bullshit carry you,” Kerry murmured. “Numb you...” He queued up a screen that eclipsed the dark skies outside with artificially bright shores. Something was strange about them, didn’t quite look real.

Girls in swimsuits, guys with glistening chests, baring not only skin but a variety of cyberware, too, aesthetic in the extreme and undoubtedly paid for on sponsorship: standard reality TV. _You goddamn punyeta_ , one of the girls exclaimed, V’s implant having to work to translate.

“Huh, that’s why I never heard of it. This is foreign, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. _Preem-i-um_ Pinoy entertainment. Imported special.”

“Hah. Scop all runs downhill, doesn’t it? Eventually it all smells the same...” It really did feel good to be leaned up against Kerry, Kerry’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. “This what you do when you can’t sleep?”

“Sometimes. Prosaic, ain’t it?”

“Hah, sure is.”

“Can’t have an image all the time.”

There was a commonality there. Loneliness in a million-eddy villa and a bottom-barrel apartment block cut just about the same. Putting on the TV just to hear some human voices – he’d been there a time or two.

“Screw image,” he declared, with a yawn. “Like you just like this.”

“Well, thanks,” Kerry drawled nonchalantly, but V felt how his grip tightened slightly, how he pulled V a little closer.

“Think it’s workin’,” he said, yawning again.

He felt Kerry press a kiss to the back of his head. “Then I’ll tell ya what you missed in the mornin’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Perforation Problems" is by Iggy Pop.


	4. Ballad Of A Running Man

Emmerick had the ride up set. Tanker and fuel. Nix had the tracks covered behind. He still hadn’t mentally adjusted to being in a position to have others move pieces for him. He had to keep going over the detes, little mantra to drive in the fact the gig was very real and counting down twenty hours to start.

Emmerick had the ride up...

V had a laptop propped up beside him on the couch and notions of doing useful reading, looking at the control specs again, trying to conceptually prep himself for the disorientation zero g was sure to be, but it was hard to focus. Had to compete with a wooziness that had set in – was on par with a lesser Relic malfunction, but unlike those, it didn’t pass. Headache was settling in with it, too.

He closed up the laptop and shut his eyes, pinching at either side of the bridge of his nose, trying to ride it ‘til the sensation evened out. Wasn’t an unusual thing anymore. It was progressing behind pills’ reach.

He could see the line opening up on down to the grand finale, straight decay with the road crumbling out from under him. Time to adjust, to ‘new normal’ number who-the-fuck-knew, while sitting in cavernously empty mansion number two. He and Kerry had either rubbed off on each other, or this kind of half-hearted flexing was just the natural outcome of possessing more scratch than had any practical purpose.

And speak of the devil, he heard the rush of air outside that announced an arriving ride. Moment later, door opened.

“Heeey,” Kerry called out. V popped his eyes open. Kerry came in carrying bags that, suspiciously, seemed to contain groceries of the raw ingredient variety.

“Hey,” V answered.

“Thought I’d try cookin’ tonight,” Kerry said, passing him by to get to the kitchen. “Not the best cook, y’know, but what the hell, the ingredients are anyway. Fresh shit. Preem.”

“Thought you _never_ cooked.”

“ _We-e-ell_ , knew you didn’t wanna go out, but we had to mark the occasion, somehow, didn’t we?”

V motioned for Kerry. Getting up just seemed like too much trouble. “Give us a kiss, Ker.”

Kerry came and planted one on his lips, then slapped his cheek and pointed at him. “ _You_ look like you could use a drink.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice.”

He felt like he had to cue himself. Should get up now, because sitting here longer would start signalling something was off. He forced himself up.

“Strong?”

“Fuck me up, Ker.” Kerry shot him a wicked look at that and got rummaging in the cabinets.

“So what’s our local legend been up to today?”

V rolled his eyes, coming to sit on a stool at the island. “Rounding up a few final notes for the job. Detes are just about a lock. Meet with the client’s on for tomorrow – ah, shit, you don’t wanna hear ‘bout it all.”

“Could.” Kerry served him his drink. “‘Less you’re not interested.”

V took a large sip of drink. But for hint of something fruit-based, tasted mainly of straight liquor.

“Whuzz cookin’?” He didn’t frankly want to talk the job, not least because talking at length also seemed like more effort than he cared for.

“Giniling. You had it?”

“Nah. What is it?”

“Beef, ‘tatoes, soy, tomato, raisins... stew-like, side’a rice.”

“Mmm, don’t that sound good.”

Kerry regarded him from across the island, drink of his own in hand. “Could use your help. Known to burn a dish or two.”

For a strange minute, it felt like he was watching himself from outside. Like he was watching some sitcom; like part of him was a director, the other an actor, waiting to be fed his lines. _A quip should go here_. He found one.

“Hah. Well, we can’t be wasting preem _fresh_ shit that way.”

Kerry snorted. Right on cue. Roll script.

He tried to shake the sensation. Too long spent running over the hypotheticals of tomorrow, maybe; had to get reoriented to the actual in front of him. He got himself up, moving at half speed – trying to keep that careful balance that was working so far for his head – and stood at the counter with Kerry. He rested an arm around him and drained his glass. Booze could help anything.

“Good shit, this.”

“Shit, V. Better not get fucked too quick, I got plans for you.”

“Bet you can bring me back.” One way or another; Kerry seemed to have pills for damn near everything – uppers, downers, the works. Probably was about time for one of his own pills, but he was trying to pace. Or trying to practice, for when they weren’t enough.

Kerry grinned. “‘Nother?”

“Hell yeah.” He pressed a kiss to Kerry’s temple and let him shift out of his grasp.

Kerry directed the cooking, and with him running the show and giving him something to do, V’s head settled back into a normal space. They divided up the prep, meat to Kerry and veg to V. Would have been a novelty sight to anyone who knew either.

The dish seemed to involve an inordinate amount of chopping – least by what V considered norm, which was fuck-all. He was on his second potato when the second drink’s liquor hit him nicely, real pick-me-up. He was starting to feel the genuine humor in their little endeavor.

“Y’know I can’t fuckin’ cook though, right? Did mention that part?”

“Don’t tell me that _now._ ” Kerry groaned as good as if he’d been physically wounded.

“Shit, Ker. You know I’m a regular ol’ gutter boy. Buying fuckin’ ingredients? You been living in the hills for a minute. Been a lifetime of kibbles ‘n’ scop for me.” He snorted. It suddenly really was very funny. “Hell, forget that Relic bullshit. Get cancer from that shit alone. Got a thou’ ways to die ‘round here.”

“See? That’s what I’m telling you. Even if we fuck this up, you’re still eating ‘ganic top-eddy shit. _Can’t_ go wrong.”

“Right.”

He reached to stir the simmering pan and that was about when he discovered his coordination had delta’d off with a vengeance. Managed to spill meat over the stove and burn his fingers in one go.

“Ah, shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, OK. Siddown over there, why don’cha.”

“Goddammit,” V muttered. Drink really had gone right to his head – had a way of doing that when you skipped meals, which had a way of happening when nausea moved in and lingered, popping in and out as it pleased – but it was either drunk and half-alive but clumsy or sober and empty, and that barely qualified as a decision at all.

After a minute of tending stove, Kerry came to him and ministered to him, which had little to do with his fingers and consisted instead, mainly, of kissing him.

“Cooking’s a hell of a lotta trouble. Could just eat you instead,” Kerry murmured.

“Ker...”

V was beginning to lose himself in the flow between the two of them, sensation strong enough to press all the aches off to the margins, when the now charring but still salvageable scents from the stove reached him.

“No, seriously, Ker... Cook that shit. I want it.”

The vote of confidence pleased Kerry, and he showed it in the dance, little sway of hips, he did on his way back to the stove.

“Mmm. ‘S goin’ on with those Cracks girls? Man, can’t believe how much you fuckin’ turned that around.”

Kerry looked over his shoulder to show V the roll of his eyes. “V, listen when I tell you a thing.” Kerry launched into a rundown of the tour plans, all things V had heard before, but that worked fine. Mainly he just wanted to listen to Kerry, let him fill the space with his talking. There was one new addition, which was that the new input angle had landed well, side-flavor for the overall package of new youthfulness and bright reinvigoration Kerry was supposed to have picked up off of the Cracks. “Close enough. Never mind those fine bitches had nothin’ to do with it. Not gonna give up all my secrets, and the timeline’s a lock. But enough of that. Really not gonna give me anything more about this job of yours that’s so big?”

Could spare the effort now, but didn’t matter. He didn’t want to. Felt stiff just thinking about it.

Scope of the job sounded downright insane, starting with the ridiculousness of the fact his only qualification was his desperation. Up in orbit? ‘Bout as literally out of his element as could get. Didn’t even touch his very real misgivings about Blue Eyes. He had just about everyone he could think of – and trust – trying to pull intel on Blue Eyes and was coming up nil for all. Meant Blue Eyes was just a front for something bigger, which set off every danger bell that still functioned.

This was his constant problem, all the way down – having to trust people with a hell of a lot more information than he had. Even when he tried not to walk into the trap, there just was no other way ‘round it, unless he wanted to quit the game altogether.

In other words, situation might be normal, sense of being all fucked, but it wasn’t what you want to come home and report.

“’S just say job’s so big, I’m getting superstitious, babe,” he pled. “Go telling you the trade secrets, feel like it’ll bring on bad luck.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Kerry said, with tone of misgiving that left distinct implication that he’d like to.

The other half of it, of course, was the conversation that’d come after admitting the risk ratio was a bit higher than he was presenting. That might mean asking where the line was, same way V himself had had to ask. That was a conversation that had a black hole of a trap in it.

Line came down like this:

It was all or nothing. It worked or he was going to go out somewhere insane, get his satisfaction that way. If this was the only way out, then hell, he was going to boldly seize it and be sure he _lived_ until the day he died. Not taking it left him with the one option that _wasn’t_ an option. And he’d waited – he hadn’t taken the offer until he was sure the offer really _was_ the only lead with a true chance. But he had to do it, because the one thing that wasn’t going to happen in any fucking universe was milking out the last of his days just to count them, some kind of endgame in a goddamn hospital bed wasting into nothing. Wasn’t going to do it. Not for anyone. Not in any company.

Real nice conversation that’d be. Real nice fucking angle to hit Kerry with – knew it’d cut something awful, but it wasn’t about Kerry, it was about him, and it was true.

Clam up ‘til Kerry got to thinking it was a suicide run? That was just fine in comparison, that was an eminently runnable EXE. Only had to prove the worry wrong by pulling off the damn gig and then they could put the whole thing behind them.

“C’mon. Don’t wanna talk business in my last bit before the job. Give you all the rundown after.”

“Now that I like.” Kerry gestured with a spoon towards him, then turned back to the stove.

Which was a real polite move, because just then a fresh flare-up struck V.

Breath caught in his lungs. The pain was like needles, pricking his skull and down his spine. Felt sharp enough to draw blood, and he knew it would, later. Fuck. It was harder and harder to pretend, harder and harder not to drown in the rising tide of bitterness, with the inevitable rising to assert its grip over him more and more.

He focused on trying to draw deeper breaths, grateful Kerry wasn’t faced ‘round to watch him. When it came on too fast, like this, it was hard to keep even.

Wasn’t going to be any way of hiding it, and he didn’t want the sympathy detour. He mumbled an excuse, drug himself off to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face.

Fear had a way of being intertwined with the pain. ‘Specially as loose as he was now. Drink could flow, drink could numb, but if fear was lurking low, drink could drive it straight up into the chest and pump it everywhere else from there.

Rush of mortality. Nothing new. Raw-edged still, but not new. Didn’t have to conquer the fear, only stave it off.

Trying to avoid it didn’t help.

Dying, end, nothingness. Death. ‘S all it was. Dealt it out himself plenty. Didn’t make a show of trying to avoid it on the daily. Thou’ ways to die was undercounting it.

He ran a tally of possibilities sometimes.

Car crash. Run recon on a 25th floor apartment and slip off an acid-weakened ledge. Step blind on a paranoid psycho’s mines. Bad batch of Bolshevik. Hell, no end to the consumable options: maybe that Eezy Beef’ll come with a side of botulism. Could choke on damn near anything if you were unlucky enough. Just plain random, too: aneurysm sitting on the shitter. Treat yourself to a day at the park and have the safeties fail.

No end to the potential variations, all of them ready to call anytime. Happened whether you brooded your days over them in advance or just got caught by the surprise bullet to the skull like a fool with faith in your future.

It’d worked before, and it worked now. He found calm, or at least something that wasn’t panic.

He popped a pill to try to lodge the pain a level lower and stared at himself in the mirror. Couldn’t see any signs of the destruction yet except for that stupid grimace on his face. Still all working away internally. Had that much going for him. He slapped his face, both hands on both cheeks. _So get out there, sit down, and stop wasting this time you got._

“Y’alright?” Kerry called, deliberately chipper, when he re-emerged.

“Yeah, Ker,” he said, glad when his voice stayed steady.

“Just in time. ‘S all finished.”

They ate around the island in the kitchen. Damn pill or maybe the pain had cut into V’s appetite. He soured on that, started slipping into a low mood, until he realized it would in turn depress Kerry to see him being depressed, so he made a point and show of appreciating the food as much as he could. He was mostly sure the burnt bits were working in the dish’s favor. Worth a tease, at least. “Mmm. That a bit of texture... smokiness... I taste?”

“Shut it.”

“Touched as fuck, babe. I’m serious. Can’t believe you really, actually cooked for me.”

“Eh, don’t get used to it,” Kerry shot back. “It’s the novelty that makes it fun.”

V finished putting his plate away. “Fuckin’ nova.”

“You wanna finish what what started? Toss in a few more drinks, get that sweet-spot wasted, and then fuck the rest away? I mean, just let go of it. _All_ of it.”

“Course I fuckin’ do.” Might have been an invite there to talk about the big picture stuff they’d skated around the rest of the night, but V didn’t want to, and ignored it. “Hmm, long as you play me some music first.”

“Dinner _and_ a show? Goddamn, V, should be chargin’ you.”

“Hah, name your price. I’ll pay up.”

“Think I know a way you could make it up.” Kerry’s expression said everything that needed to be said about how he meant.

A shot apiece and a beer to chase, and they regrouped to the living room.

Kerry sat on the bench, and V the floor, leaned against the bench, head tilted back to rest on the cushion. Drink was giving him a preem stim and numb combo, but it was drawing the headache back, too.

V was content to play it low-key, just to listen as Kerry ran through a couple of tracks. _Nothing From Above_ really shone with the acoustic treatment.

No big deal. Holed up in that boujee apartment he’d spent all that time staring at, wondering what kind of asshole owned, with a legendary rockerboy giving him a private concert – just as a little modest pregame for the reservation at the Crystal Palace waiting for him.

Run it again. Emmerick had the ride, Nix had the tracks covered. Blue Eyes had the security specs, Vik if he was lucky had Blue Eye’s...

The strumming stopped. V glanced up and saw Kerry seemed struck by thought. After a moment, he shook his head. “Mmm. Was gonna play you the latest one, but... nah. Maybe your superstitiousness’s rubbin’ off. Think I’ll save it ‘til I get a take down in the studio.”

“Mmm.” V rested his head back as it was, let his eyes close again. “Guess I can’t argue.”

Kerry jostled him with his foot. “Jesus. Can’t be copying each other like this.”

V smiled, still keeping his eyes shut, chasing the equilibrium where the ache didn’t flare. “Speakin’ of copying. You should cover a Cracks song. Rework it your way. Y’know, little karma reversal on the whole _User Friendly_ thing.”

Kerry perked right up. “Hold up, I _have_ been playing with something.” He strummed a few chords V couldn’t place. “Might need some tricks for the tour and all.” V didn’t know the first thing about Us Cracks’s catalog past the inescapable _Pon Pon Shit_ and now _Off the Leash_ , so he couldn’t judge the relation between what Kerry played and the original, but it was plenty listenable. Kerry hummed the melody along, dropping lyrics in spots. “Perfect universe, you can follow me...”

“Can tell it ain’t yours, but got your flavor into it. Works pretty good.”

“That’s what I thought. Scoop out all the goddamn distractable noise they stuffed on top and it ain’t unsalvageable.”

“What’s it called?”

“ _UMIverse_. Got to figure out what to do what that cutesy shit. Fiddle with a few lines, maybe. Works for them or whatever, but...”

V grinned. “Oh, but now I _need_ the Kerry Eurodyne faithful cover. Ooh, or maybe you should do _Pon Pon_ instead. ‘ _Yes-no, yes-no, makura-no_...’”

Kerry barked a laugh. “Go audition at MSM with that, V. _Exactly_ like that.”

V laughed, too. “Stunning, I know.”

“Speaking of which. Actually drove out to the studio yesterday, haven’t been there in – ah, fuck it, whenever – and do you know what happens? Come out and fuckin’ _Mikki Kopecki’s_ parked up my ass crack –”

“Your what?”

“– scratches my Aerondight getting his bitch ass out. V, I swear to you. Was like the skies above opened up and said, see? All this bull-fuckin’-shit? Welcome back to it.”

“Sorry, ‘m I ‘sposed to know this Mikki guy?”

“Son of one of MSM’s directors. And marketing manager himself or some fucking shit... talentless waste of space.”

“Damn, and that’s all? Stood there lookin’ at the skies, didn’t run out and get any explosives? Really _are_ maturing.”

“Ain’t worth it. Got other more pressing uses of my time – for now. _Next_ time, though...”

V could feel time pressing in, little melancholy undercurrent running through, rising up a bit more upon being recognized. “Hmm, yeah. Can’t have it all.” His voice went abruptly weak on him.

“Got that right. Reach for something and another thing falls out of your grasp.”

They weren’t talking about Mikki Kopecki anymore.

“Even if you _make_ it –”

“You give something up.” Very quietly, Kerry added, “I know.”

V shifted towards Kerry, leaned some of his weight against his leg. “How ‘bout one more? Call it an encore for the night.”

“Got a request?”

“Wanna hear that one you played for me before. On the yacht.”

Preem as the rest was, this was the one – from the first notes, softness of the strumming and Kerry’s humming merging into one soothing effect, he was transported to a different place entirely. Spiritual kind of thing. An aching longing and a profound peace intertwined around each other.

He started unlacing Kerry’s boots, slow, so as to not hurry Kerry through the song too quick. Course from here was an inevitability – the gratifying kind of inevitability. Only question was when to trigger it.

“Da... da da da da...”

Boots were off. Kerry was still going. Felt like Kerry might go on eternally if he wanted him to, waiting for him to interrupt. He ran his hands along Kerry’s feet, working a kind of irregular massage on them. Could be so easy to disappear this way. Nothing existing but each other – no future, no past –

He turned and looked up, meeting Kerry’s eyes. Kerry stopped mid-phrase at the sight, like it was a signal he’d been waiting for. Guitar went onto the bench and Kerry onto the floor. Second later and their lips met, just as hungry for each other as they had been before dinner.

Echo of something Kerry had tried to put words to before came to V – _letting the now erase what came or was to come on either side, endless if you let it._ He embraced it and gave himself over to the thin line of pleasure that snaked and wove through and past the pain.

He was just starting to fully enter that space he wanted to be in – all instinct, not thinking of a blessed goddamn thing but this – when Kerry pulled back.

“C’mon, V,” he said. “Let’s finish this in bed.”

Sounded fine, least ‘til he got to his feet and then found that standing had a way of putting him back into that disassociated out-of-mind-set. Triggered by prospect of something imminently good both times. He didn’t understand it and wished they’d just stayed down – floor was plenty good for fucking – but Kerry already had him led, hand in hand, upstairs.

Kerry made it easy, no need to find lines for himself, by opening with getting down to blow him. V just about melted away into blank bliss to sit there and do nothing but let him. Could forget a lot of things with that to distract.

Only remembering his promise of paying up got him to rouse enough to interrupt.

Promise or no promise, there had to be one last fuck for the road. But god, the way Kerry looked now, rising up towards him, V didn’t know which way he wanted more.

“You goo-goo-eyes dope,” Kerry said when they were back at eye level.

“Fuck, Ker.” Sometimes the energy balance tilted V’s way, with his youth and his live-wire momentum. Tonight, Kerry had the upper hand and then some. “You’re doin’ me too good.”

“How ‘bout I keep doin’ you real good, then?” Kerry kissed him as he slid a finger between the crack of V’s ass, just to make his meaning clear. Seemed that would actually leave Kerry fully doing everything, but right then it sounded just the most perfect thing in the world. Just to let go.

And he did. Not a single protest to give to that prospect. Might as well have been swimming, head flying in the fuckin’ clouds the way it was, laid on his back with nothing to do except open up for Kerry. He was nearly dripping in anticipation just from Kerry’s languid exploration of his ass, ‘fore the dick entered the equation at all.

From there, he was fucking gone.

No thinking. Pure, mind-erasing pleasure. Two of them working in tandem to integrate as much as two people could. Nothing else existing outside of themselves for the duration. Finished nearly in sync, too, few seconds all that separated.

For a minute neither made any effort to pull apart, only held onto each other as they caught their breath, feeling an intimacy that went deeper than words had shape to express.

And thinking of that closeness, V felt –

Creeping, counteracting distance.

“Fuck, V,” Kerry exhaled, still clinging to him.

“Jesus. You _should_ charge.”

“ _Now_ you got the full service.” Kerry pulled out then, rolled onto the bed beside him. He smiled, so fond it nearly made V ache. “Fuckin’ spent now. End of the ride.” He patted V’s cheek. “Go clean yourself up and let’s sleep.”

V shuffled off to the bathroom to do just that.

He shivered, not only from temperature, standing naked there on the tiles. Something held-back was dislodging itself. Numb didn’t exactly work after that kind of release. Could try to delay it, but there was no burying it. Half-second of trying to pretend he could sleep it off was all he needed to know it was pointless.

He’d settle for seeing Kerry off to sleep before it got into the open.

He finished, went back and laid down beside him only long enough for Kerry to wink out – took scarcely five minutes, old man wasn’t joking about being spent – and then rose and went outside.

The chill of the night air slipped easily under the robe he’d grabbed and settled against his skin. He found himself alarmingly close to tears.

It bubbled up now, worse still for the taste of euphoria. Whole show of going through the motions, trying to keep everything light and surface-level to get a little distance between him and Kerry – him and anyone, really, except mainly it came down to just Kerry, little too good at it with everyone else already – was him trying to manage it. It had been knocking around his skull, nameless, but tonight, he finally had a word for it.

Grief.

Preemptive grief. Compressed and delayed too long. The way it came on now was even worse than the first time.

First time was the shock-to-the-system discovery that playing the live fast, die young game wasn’t just an aesthetic, but something you could actually win at.

This time, having to confront the possibility of his own finity meant admitting he knew exactly what he had to lose – not an abstract, denied prospect, longed-for yet vague, but –

Having something damn near perfect, just to have it snatched away –

He paced, smoking, trying to work it off. Paced like a tragic king, all his wealth useless against the higher powers of the world. The smoking wasn’t even a Johnny thing anymore. Kerry smoked, too, cigs were in no short supply in either house, and they gave him something to do at times like this. ‘Sides, they were pretty far down the list of potential mortality causes for him.

All the lights of the sleepless, glittering, ugly and just plain living city stared back at him. He thought of all those little people, people he’d been ‘til a few months ago, making their way in the shadows below, just specks from way up here.

He’d made it to the top – really fuckin’ had, literally and by any other measure. Got no rights to ask for more, and to _expect_ more was just a trap – one he’d stumbled right into, regular old fool, same as ever.

He didn’t want to allow himself to truly believe there was a way out, because that felt like a curse. If he did, it would all go wrong, superstitious cause and effect, so he had to go on with his stupid tightrope walk of clinging to and rejecting hope in equal measure. Made him feel crazy to switch between the two so often.

It would have been easier without Kerry, he thought glumly. Same as the heist would have been easier without Jackie. Same way Atlanta was real fucking easy, two years hurtling by in the helpless sort of way Kerry talked about sometimes. When there was nothing in particular to hold on to, course you rushed to the future like a fool, not caring if its promises were lies or truth. There just wasn’t any alternative, and nothing to mourn over if it all went tits up.

Chasing Kerry had been an impulse, something that just felt right to do, something done without any kind of expectation, and yet here, few scant weeks packed together into something all the intenser for it, they’d made something real.

He ran his hands over his face, blinked blearily.

A spasm hit him then, and he coughed blood. Felt something ugly contorting in him at the sight of that red in hand, grief twisting into rage.

Hell, he and Kerry probably wouldn’t last without the expiration date to sweeten it, he thought in a bitter rush. Expiration date had to be a large factor in the headlong hurry they were doing, diving in way faster than was ordinary.

He guessed, anyway. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with ordinary relationships. Few come-and-goes, one or two friends-with-a-side-of-pleasures.

He snuffed out his cig and leaned on the railing, both knuckles pressed to his forehead.

Trying to shut Kerry out now was a Johnny play, pure and simple. Push away first, to cut the hurting later. ‘Cept he’d _been_ in Johnny’s head, and that play hadn’t worked half as well for Johnny as the man pretended it did, and it sure as hell didn’t benefit any of the countless other parties he’d tried it on.

It was late. Still had a bit of drink circulating in him. He could almost imagine Johnny was still there, with that biting commentary that had a way of soothing his nerves.

_Screw you, Johnny,_ he thought, with a smile. Doing the opposite just out of spite was the kind of tribute Johnny would’ve appreciated, the kind of backwards compliment the man could have taken without a push back.

Just admit the patently obvious. It didn’t make anything easier to admit, but do it anyway. He did. He did love Kerry. Not accidentally, not incidentally, not equivocally. And he wanted it – wanted _them_ – to last.

He wanted control, but letting go just to keep it was a coward’s way out. Holding on was what was hard, and he’d given up on notions of an easy life a long time ago.

He had to believe. Had to go on being that fool chasing impossibilities.

_Cosmic fucking joke_ was right.

Only needed to believe enough to get through the night. Tomorrow there’d be action, there’d be movement, there’d be real data, and all this gonk overthinking uselessness would get shoved off to the tiny corner in his mind it deserved.

If it happened, it happened. Grieving didn’t help anything. Only created wasteland out of time that had yet to be spent.

He knew where he belonged.

He took one last look over the cityscape. _Soul_ had become a danger word, but he chanced it now. City had a soul, and he felt himself part of it. Entwined with something bigger than himself.

Whatever else came – he’d achieved that. Had left some kind of proof of existence. Naïve dream come true.

He crept back inside, back to bed, and crawled in beside Kerry. He kept his mind blank, focused on watching Kerry’s chest rise and fall in even breaths, little snores wheezing out as he did.

He consciously copied himself to that rhythm, and soon enough fell into a sound sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ballad of a Running Man" is by Catherine Wheel.


	5. Love, Outrun

“V. You got a minute?”

Kerry came into view on the call, guitar around his chest, kneeling down to fiddle with an amp.

“What’s the sound in the background – crowd?”

“Yeah, just about to go on. Listen. Wanted you to hear this. Not interruptin’ business?”

“Nah.” V was still catching his breath from the last leg of the job. He was trying to pace his stims, turning into a regular pharma watching the balance of his chemistry this way. Minute to relax felt about perfect.

“About to open my set. Wanted to start big, so had to do a new one, y’know? ‘Fore they get too comfortable with the hits. And this one – hell, it’s yours, V. Number two.”

“Turnin’ into a regular ol’ muse. I kinda like that, Ker,” he teased.

“Wait. Mix is gonna be shit if we do it like this.” He saw Kerry’s eyes glow as he fiddled with something technical. “Yeah, better like this. Switching channels – just gonna be the music coming through. Listen as long as you can, OK?”

“OK. Love you, Ker.”

Kerry winked, blew a kiss, and sauntered off to the stage front, leaving his phone propped backstage.

Five minutes later, the song came roaring across the call, clean and pure; Kerry had to have hooked V into the master system somehow.

And Kerry, Jesus, screamed across the distance, with his entire soul in it. Sounding more alive than V had ever heard him. He got it then, the raw edge that made him a legend – studio takes of the vintage stuff only got half of it and it was absolute miles away from those Cracks collabs –

_Scream out into the night_   
_Not until the end!_   
_Not until the end!_   
_Not until the –_   
_End! End! End!_   
_Grab and hold_   
_Borrowed time_   
_Borrowed skin_   
_Borrow mine_

Just raw, poured-out feeling – V nearly had to call it desperation – like Kerry’d taken all the things that lurked in the no-man’s land between them, things neither knew how to say, and compressed them into three minutes and forty-three seconds of pure sound.

Kerry was bantering with the crowd, but V was stopped still over some of the lines, playing them back in his head.

_A chromatic clash against the black_   
_My neon star, my violent song_

Songs had hit him somewhere on that level before – just seize into you, know there’s gonna be a permanent spot in your soul for them – but it’d been years since the last. Coming from Kerry, whole thing was almost like a fucking prayer, he thought. Made him want to believe in something, even without knowing what.

Who knew when Kerry would see, but he texted:

the HELL, Ker??? where were you hiding THAT?

After another minute of stewing, as Kerry in real-time hit the opening riffs of _Chippin’ In_ , V added:

feel like i’m immortal now. babe. ain’t got words. maybe stars’ll align and i can show you instead ;)

He cut the call. Had that rare feeling of being tapped into the pure vein of something right, of being exactly where he was meant to be. Whole hopscotch route to get here aside, _here_ felt inevitable after that pure ‘ganic endorphin rush. It was all the fuel he needed. He stood.

Biz now, joy after. Parallel lines running in orbit, waiting to cross.

Maybe Kerry could get another song out of that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Love, Outrun" is by yours truly & Kerry Eurodyne. ;)


	6. Love, Outrun (LYRICS)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just an appendix with the full lyrics to "Love, Outrun."

Runnin’ alone with an eternity below  
Virus in the shadows and a worm in your head  
Just hangin’ on with an emptiness to be fed  
We collide and it all disappears in the beat  


Shock us awake (show me!)  
Kiss me alive (show me!)  
Erase the rest (show me!)  


Wanna see you when you go down  
Like a vision of the present  
Doublevision to the limit  
Entwined down to the circuits

My second coming, my answered cry  


Scream out into the night  
Not until the end!  
Not until the end!  
Not until the –  


End!  
End!  
End!  
Grab and hold  
Borrowed time  
Borrowed skin  
Borrow mine  


It’s all the same, you’ll find your way  
Don’t close your eyes, it’s our last shot  
Your traces are everywhere  
A chromatic clash against the black  
My neon star, my violent song  


Scream out into the night  
Not until the end!  
Not until the end!  
Not until the –  


End!  
End!  
End!  
Grab and hold  
Borrowed time  
Borrowed skin  
Borrow mine  


Love, outrun  
Carry me on the edge  
Love, outrun  
Carry me on the edge  
Love, outrun  
Carry me on the edge  
Now come on  
Sing your madness  
Yeah, keep hangin’ on  


The city screams out for you  
Not until the end!  
Not until the end!  
And I –  


Beg!  
Beg!  
Beg!  
Kneel and beg  
(For) borrowed time  
(In your) borrowed skin  
(Go on and) borrow mine  
Borrow mine  
Borrow mine  



End file.
